


Just talk it out

by TerresDeBrume



Series: Immortal Instruments Warm Ups [3]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Confessions, Emotionally Repressed, Gen, Late at Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:11:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5270951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerresDeBrume/pseuds/TerresDeBrume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a Shadowhunter sounds really cool when you first learn about it but it does take a heavy emotional toll on those who practice it, and Isabelle--as Clary is about to discover--is no exception.</p><p>Or, "Things Isabelle said when she thought Clary was asleep."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just talk it out

Clary emerges from a restless sleep when her mattress dips under someone’s weight, ready to scream until the smell of sleep-warm skin and vanilla float to her nostrils. Isabelle.

 

“I’m not staying the night,” Isabelle promises as she lifts the covers and slips in bed beside Clary, rolling into a tight ball on the other half of the bed.

 

Clary is about to answer when Isabelle continues:

 

“It’s just–normally I’d just sit with Alec or something. He does his arrows near my door when he can’t sleep. Or I’d go with Jace–whatever. I don’t want to be _here_ specifically but–there’s no one else right now, so. You’ll have to do.”

 

Clary stares at the darkness in front of her, the bare wall separating her room from what passes for a bathroom in the Institute, and wonders–stupidly, she knows–how Isabelle manages not to touch her even as they share a bed meant for a single person.

That has to be some sort of exploit in and of itself.

 

“Not that you’d be very useful even awake, I mean–you can’t have suffered much if you’re willing to trust us that quick. Maybe it’s just a mundane thing. Maybe you guys are just naive or something.”

 

Part of Clary–the offended one–wants to break the pretense and protest, tell Isabelle off for her assumptions, but Clary stays silent. She’s not even quite sure why–maybe it’s the odd touch of vulnerability in Isabelle’s voice, but then, that’s not all there is. Maybe it’s just too late in the night to get properly worked up.

 

“Whatever,” Isabelle sighs, her body relaxing next to Clary–just a fraction, but it probably still counts as progress. “It’s not like I actually need you to relate, I just need to talk it out.”

 

A pause–Isabelle readjusts her position, and the heat of her spreads a little, as if the knot of her body uncoiled under the cover.

 

“Just talk it out,” Isabelle repeats, shivers in her voice–it makes Clary’s spine tense in response, but she manages not to betray herself, and Isabelle continues: “Just talk it out. Angel, it’s harder when you’re alone–I’m sure you don’t know that uh? Mundanes probably don’t have to do that.” A pause. “At least not the white ones, I guess. Urgh. This isn’t working–stupid nightmares. I’ll just–”

 

Clary feels Isabelle shift beside her, and the sound of bones popping into place, followed by a muffled groand and a sharp string of Alicanti that can only be cursing. Isabelle falls silent then, tension returning to her body–it takes Clary a minute to realize there are footsteps coming up the corridors, hurrying to the bedroom with a regularity that reminds Clary of Fourth of July parades.

 

“Oh thank the Angel!”

 

Clary has to repress a hiss when Isabelle lifts the blanket and cold air slips under Clary’s shirt, but she manages to stay silent while Isabelle tip toes out of the room. There’s the sound of relieved greetings in Alicanti, followed by animated chatter and a deep voice–Mr. Lightwood’s, Clary thinks–responding with soothing words of Arabic.

It takes a while before things settle down–doors clicking open and shut in rapid succession, sleepy voices asking if everyone’s alright from Maryse’s end of the corridor… some singing even, at some point, and Clary is surprised to recognize Jace’s voice in the German lullaby–but eventually the Institute falls quiet again, and Clary is left alone to wonder what, exactly, she got herself into.


End file.
